Flowers of May
by Nytd
Summary: For two years, the captain and crew of the Black Pearl have been cursed, Port Royal has had a new hospital, and Madeline Gray has nearly given up on seeing her charming rogue again. Until the flowers arrive. Fluffy three-shot. Pirates of May episode II
1. Chapter 1

Two years after leaving the _Rogue Wave_, and pledging to wait for Barbossa to return from the sea, Madeline Gray has tried to move on with her life, not knowing why it is that her pirate captain has not returned to her as he promised. Now, busy with the new hospital in Port Royal, and the excitement of the arrival of the new governor and officers at Fort Charles, she has flowers delivered unexpectedly one day to her door.

Are they from friends? A patient? Perhaps from Charles Beckett, who has had his eye on her ever since his wife, Cornelia, perished at sea. Are they from the handsome Lieutenant Groves, with whom she spends the night of the governor's ball dancing and conversing? Or is there someone else that Madeline hasn't even considered might send her flowers?

**Flowers of May**

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**Chapter One**

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I sat at the bedside of the small child, watching her take what I knew to probably be her last breaths. The fact that she was unconscious made it look as if she were sleeping, and it helped to add some measure of peace to her otherwise grim appearance.

Silken curls that once shone golden in the sunlight about her sweet little face, were now plastered darkly back from her forehead, and dark circles stained the perfect pale skin below the luxurious long lashes. I knew the eyes under the sealed lids to once be clear bright blue, a shade lighter than my own, and typically full of laughter and inquisitiveness that were a mark of the sprightly spirit and cheerful demeanor that had long since fled the little body.

A fever of sorts –one unfamiliar to me or to either of my colleagues, had ravaged the girl for a week, and now, at the end of that time, despite doing everything I could possibly think of, it was obvious there was naught else I could do.

The small room was quiet; near silence was broken only by the ragged breaths of the child and those of her mother as she sobbed quietly in the arms of her husband where they stood on the far side of the bed. They'd asked me to stay for their daughter's last hours, reluctant to leave her unattended despite the fact that they knew as well as I did, there was no hope left.

I would say by that point in the early morning, that the dark circles under my own eyes were doing their best to mirror those of my patient, as I'd slept very little over the past two days while tending my small ward.

The girl's breaths were becoming shallower and further apart, even as dawn arrived, and sunlight shown into the room through a high window, announcing the arrival of the new day that she would never see.

I saw her father glance at the shaft of sunlight shining on the floor next to the bed, and then back to his young daughter, and I could almost read his thoughts. Her fifth birthday was May third, only three days from now, and it would likely be the day we would stand at her graveside to say goodbye, rather than celebrate the anniversary of the day she was born.

I remembered well the day she arrived, as I was the one who delivered her –one of my first patients upon my arrival in Port Royal to set up my practice. Now, despite the fact that I had the availability of three physicians and a beautiful new hospital for my patients, this one had contracted a disease still beyond our capacity to treat.

Sorrow and frustration were mine in great measures, but I pushed them aside and outwardly remained stoic and compassionate. It was all I could do for her family now to try and support them, and I thanked God that there were other children at home, so the parents didn't have to return to a completely empty house.

I waited for the next rattling breath to come from the bed, and as the moments wore on, I realized there wouldn't be another one. Both mother and father watched me, already knowing what I confirmed by checking for a pulse or a heartbeat –that I would find neither, and peace, at last, had come to their daughter.

I raised my head from the frail little chest only after I was sure that I had managed to fight back the tears that were threatening to come. I knew before I checked the girl that she'd passed on, and I wanted to be strong for her family at the moment- the last thing I could do for them.

I met her father's eyes, seeing no question in them. He knew. I am sure her mother did as well, but her gaze jumped frantically from my face to her husband's to mine again, and I merely shook my head. The poor woman, despite the fact that she understood we'd been keeping a death vigil, finally came undone, and she flung herself on the bed to embrace the still little figure that lay there growing cold.

I walked around the far side of the bed, and placed a hand on the father's arm. "I'm sorry, John," I said, both of us watching his wife, Alice, sobbing brokenly on the bed. "If there was anything else that could be done…"

He gave me a weak smile and nodded. "I know," he said hoarsely. "You did all you could, Madeline…thank you."

I nodded at him and turned to leave the room, wanting to give the family a few last minutes together, and also, I confess, to escape out into the bright sunlight, anxious to be away from the despair that permeated the hospital that morning.

I found myself wandering out to the cliffs that the hospital sat on and absently walking along them, watching the sun come up over the Caribbean. Tired as I was after my ordeal with the girl, it took me a few minutes to realize that I was unconsciously scanning the horizon again for black sails.

When I realized the senseless and irrational thing I was doing, I grew angry with myself for wasting time, and berating myself silently for hoping for something that I knew was never going to happen, I turned away from the sea quickly and hurried back indoors. I needed to get word to the minister, and to make a few arrangements for the body, and then I desperately needed to get some sleep.

I looked pretty much like death myself, and I wanted to be rested for the ball that night. The new governor had arrived two weeks before, and that evening was to be the celebration commemorating his arrival. I looked forward to going, as it would be my first chance to meet Governor Weatherby Swann.

Even though it was just after dawn, the town was bustling with activity as last minute preparations were being made for the event, and it wouldn't be long before the upper crust of society would begin to arrive both by carriage and by ship. Indeed, the little harbor was already fairly crowded with small vessels that had arrived from other parts of the island, and from several others in the Caribbean.

I made the rest of the arrangements that needed to be made, and after saying a few last words to John and Alice, I managed to escape down the hill to my small house, not far from the impressive villa that belonged to the Beckett family.

Several hours of badly needed sleep later, I arose refreshed, and began my preparations for the ball by choosing a deep blue dress that I had bought for the occasion. When I finally finished dressing, I prepared myself to walk the short distance to the governor's mansion, and was surprised when the carriage arrived at my door, as it was certainly not mine.

I did, however, know whom the pair of elegant matched bays pulling it belonged to, and I wasn't surprised when Charles Beckett opened the door and leaned out. "Dear me, Madeline," he said, charming smile already fixed firmly in place, "you weren't going to walk, were you?"

Charles knew very well that I didn't have a carriage, and that I was going to have to walk. I wanted to kick him for the underlying reminder in his tone that let me know, once again, that I wasn't as well to do as he was.

"Good evening, Charles," I said, as pleasantly as I could, and I gave him my most charming smile in return. "It's such a lovely evening for walking...and for the ball, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed at me a little. "Don't be absurd, Madeline. It's hot and sticky and that poor dress of your will be ruined by the time you even get there. Besides, there are gentlemen coming from all over Jamaica for this. It wouldn't do to have our lovely doctor be seen _walking_, now would it?"

I gave a contrived light little laugh. "Oh, Charles," I said, " you worry about my appearance so much more than I do."

What I knew was that he wanted to make sure I was seen arriving with him in order to avoid any unattached gentlemen possibly taking notice of me at the ball. It had been more than once over the past two years that I'd had to decline invitations to dine with him or go riding in the countryside.

While I typically accepted invitations to his home if it was for some sort of dinner party or other festive gathering, as I wished not to insult my neighbor, I refused to accept any invitation that might leave me alone with him. Besides the fact that I thought him dangerous, and a pompous ass, what I knew and he didn't was that I was aware of the amount of trouble he'd caused years before for another man that I thought entirely better of.

Strange to think that I held a ruthless pirate in higher regard than the man that leaned out of the carriage in front of me. Or at least I had…two years before.

"Well, are you coming?" Charles asked, obviously assuming I understood his invitation even though he hadn't bothered to voice it.

"It's going to be so crowded with carriages," I said pleasantly in return, "I think I prefer walking, thank you." Feeling a bit mean spirited toward him, I made him an offer I knew he would refuse. "You could join me, Charles," I offered, sweetly. "It would be lovely to have some company on the walk."

I knew he couldn't possibly miss being seen arriving in his extravagant carriage with the precisely matched pair.

"You are quite contrary at times, Madeline," Charles said, smile still in place, but tone not quite so pleasant. "Walk if you wish, but don't blame me if you arrive looking nothing like a doctor should." He shut the door and his driver called to the horses.

I gritted my teeth and picked up my skirts, being careful to keep them from dragging. I knew Charles well enough to know that he'd implied that it was more because I was a woman than the fact that I might get my dress dusty, that would cause me not to look like a doctor should.

I had to pick my way carefully through all the carriages and people that were arriving, and seeing Charles already conversing with some of the local magistrates as he saw me arrive, I tried to quickly enter the mansion.

Unfortunately, that meant that I nearly ran smack into James Norrington.

"Oh! Pardon me, Lieutenant," I said, embarrassed that I'd nearly banged into him. I'd previously met him after his arrival with the governor nearly two weeks earlier, when he'd arrived at the hospital to find out just what sort of medical support he could expect for his men at the fort.

"Miss Gray," he said pleasantly, acknowledging my arrival, " or should I say, Doctor Gray?" He gave me a kind if not reserved smile.

"Miss Gray, is fine, Lieutenant," I replied. Norrington had seem to take in stride the fact that the most experienced surgeon in that part of the Caribbean was a woman, and he'd been pleasant and respectful when dealing with me to that point.

We made small talk as we walked into the ballroom together, and he nodded toward where the governor was greeting his guests across the room, even as he took two glasses of champagne from a tray offered by a passing servant. He offered me one and I took it with thanks.

"Have you met the governor, yet, Miss Gray?" he asked, surveying the gathering crowd.

"No, I admit I haven't had the pleasure." I looked at the daunting line waiting to rub shoulders with the man. "I wonder if I might even get the chance with that mob," I said, barely refraining from rolling my eyes at the group nearly fawning on the new governor.

Norrington didn't smile, but he raised one eyebrow at my comment, and I had the sense that he was amused at my assessment. "Would you care to?" he asked casually.

"That would be lovely, but…"

He handed me his champagne and strode boldly through the crowd to the governor's side.

"A word, if you please, Governor Swann," he said. "A matter of security and utmost importance that I must bring to your attention immediately."

Swann nodded and excused himself graciously, following Norrington to where I stood. "Thank you for rescuing me, James," I heard him say in an undertone.

"Whatever are you talking about, sir?" Norrington asked him, as he retrieved his glass of champagne from me. "Governor, allow me to introduce you to the hospital's medical director, Doctor Madeline Gray."

Governor Swann smiled warmly at me and shook my hand. "So lovely to meet you, Doctor Gray. I believe I knew your grandfather. Ethan Gray, was it?"

I smiled with pleasant surprise. "Yes. How did you know him, Governor?"

"Oh, that's a rather long story," he said, pleasantly. "Perhaps you would come to dine with my daughter and myself some evening so that I could share it with you?"

"That would be lovely," I said, sincerely, liking the man already.

"Good." He looked about the room, frowning a little. "Now, where has that girl gotten to?" he asked, a bit impatiently.

"Here I am, Father," the young girl said as she appeared by his side.

"Ah, Elizabeth, have you met the doctor yet?" he asked her, glancing back where I was standing.

Young Elizabeth looked about us for a moment, and then realized her father meant me. Her expressive eyes widened and she smiled brightly.

"Elizabeth, this is Doctor Gray," the governor said to her and then he turned to me. "Doctor Gray, my daughter, Elizabeth."

"How very nice to make your acquaintance," Elizabeth said politely, and she dropped a sweet little curtsey.

"Thank you, Miss Swann," I said, noting how her father was beaming at her manners. "It's a pleasure meeting you this lovely evening."

"Is it true that you're a doctor…a real doctor?" she asked, her sense of propriety slipping in her eagerness to ask the question.

"Yes," I said, trying not to smile too much.

"That's ever so exciting!" she said. "I've never met a doctor who was a woman before. I'll bet you're just as good as the men!"

"Even better," I said to her in a conspiratorial whisper, eliciting a giggle from her.

A fair bit of the evening I spent speaking with the governor and James Norrington, as well as several of the officers that served at the fort.

I was listening politely to a story one of them was telling of an adventure at sea, not really paying close attention as I was on the lookout for Charles Beckett, hoping to avoid dancing with him altogether if possible.

"…and of course no one ever saw hide nor hair of her again. Shame 'bout the crew. Families never did find out what became of the _Valiant_."

I nearly spat out the sip of champagne I'd just taken.

"Are you quite alright, Miss Gray?" Norrington asked as I coughed several times.

I nodded, and finally managed to get the cough under control. I knew I was the only one in the room that knew the fate of the HMS _Valiant_ and her crew, and I thought it wise not to say anything.

One of the officers, a lieutenant named Groves, a quiet, observant and pleasant young officer, spoke up. "It's been rumored that she was sunk by pirates," he said, "but no one's ever confirmed it for sure."

I was feeling quite uneasy about the fact that I could certainly have confirmed that story for my companions.

Another officer, a bit of a know it all second in seniority to Norrington, named Gillette, had to offer his two shillings on the matter. "Pirates!" he scoffed. "That's absurd. The _Valiant_ carried two hundred marines and a full compliment of guns. What pirate ship would win an engagement with a fifth rate frigate with a crew like that and experienced officers aboard her?"

"The _Black Pearl_?" Groves offered in reply, mostly to make his point.

"The _Black Pearl_! Come now, surely you can't believe that?" Gillette said to Groves. "Besides, at the time of the _Valiant's _disappearance, the _Pearl _was supposedly halfway across the Caribbean."

Gillette took a sip of champagne and went on. "No, I say she ran into bad luck –perhaps an uncharted reef."

"Then why were there no survivors, I wonder?" Groves asked thoughtfully.

"Gentlemen," Norrington interrupted at that point. "As fascinating as this topic is, I am sure that Miss Gray is entirely weary of your discussion by this point. Perhaps she might like to discuss something other than your speculations about recent naval history?"

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant," I said pleasantly, " I certainly don't mind."

"Well, that's rather refreshing," Gillette said, giving me what he thought was a charming smile. He seemed a bit too smug for my taste. "Nice to see a woman that actually doesn't mind discussing weighty matters."

If I hadn't been in the middle of the governor's ball, I would have kicked him in the shin.

"Well," Norrington replied, raising his glass. "I propose a toast…to our new governor."

The governor smiled and raised his own glass, as did all of us standing in the group. "To the governor."

"I hope that I may do as well overseeing the colony as all of my predecessors did," Swann said, graciously. "Quite the set of shoes to walk in, with the reputations of the last few."

Gillette smiled knowingly. "Especially if you count Henry Morgan," he said. "You're not a pirate, by any chance, are you, Governor Swann?"

"Pirate? Good heavens, no," Swann replied, amused. "Is that what they say about Morgan in these parts? It seems hard to believe that a man knighted by the king could earn such a tarnished reputation."

"That's what they say," Gillette replied. "The king himself sent him a beautiful ship to protect the colonies with, a frigate called the _Oxford_, and the scoundrel made her the flagship of his pirate fleet."

"That's outrageous," the governor replied.

"Shame that was," Gillette continued. "Waste of a perfectly good ship when she was burned."

"Burned?" I asked, puzzled by why he thought so.

"Yes, Doctor Gray, burned…set on fire and sunk from what I've heard," Gillette replied in a pompous manner.

I frowned, and irritated by the man's somewhat condescending manner, I spoke up. "The _Oxford_ was neither sunk, nor burned by Morgan, sir, " I replied, quite confidently.

Gillette smiled at me the way an adult smiles while indulging a small child. "I think I probably am better informed of what happens to military vessels in these waters than yourself, Doctor. No offense intended."

"None taken, thank you, but I must insist that in this matter you are quite mistaken," I said, giving him the most charming smile I could muster.

Norrington looked curious as to why I was so adamant about Gillette being wrong. "You seemed to be quite convinced, Doctor Gray. Won't you enlighten us as to why?"

"Certainly," I said, giving Gillette another brief glance. "The _Oxford_ was given by Henry Morgan to Hector Barbossa, not sunk."

The officers I was standing with were all much too well mannered to laugh, but I could tell they shared looks and were amused at my theory.

"The pirate who captains the _Black Pearl_?" Groves asked, seeming more curious than condescending.

I nodded.

Norrington chimed in at that point. "I don't seem to ever remember having heard that Barbossa sailed the _Oxford_, Doctor Gray."

"You wouldn't have…because he renamed her the _Rogue Wave_," I informed him.

Gillette actually snickered a bit. "So, you're saying the _Rogue Wave_, the ship that ravaged the Caribbean for a decade, was actually the ship sent from England to the governor of Jamaica?"

"Acting lieutenant governor," I corrected him, "and yes, the _Oxford _became the _Rogue Wave_ for certain, of that I have no doubt whatsoever."

"Why, Doctor Gray, you seem to be quite the expert on the subject," Gillette said in that annoyingly indulgent manner again. "Care to share why you would think such a fantastic thing?"

"Well, that's simple," I said, slightly irritated, "Captain Barbossa told me."

--

**A/N:** I am making the assumption that officers in the Royal Navy know that the _Black Pearl_ is a real ship, but don't necessarily buy into the legends about her. I would leave it to the common sailors and marines like Mullroy and Murtogg to be more superstitious and believe such tales. Of course, just because they happen to be true...;)


	2. Chapter 2

_"Why, Doctor Gray, you seem to be quite the expert on the subject," Gillette said, in that annoyingly indulgent manner again. "Care to share why you would think such a fantastic thing?"_

_"Well, that's simple," I said, slightly irritated, "Captain Barbossa told me."_

_--_

**_~Chapter Two~_**

**_--_**

Music played in the background of the ballroom, clearer to me for a few seconds as my half dozen or so conversation companions all fell dead silent after my statement.

After five or six seconds, as if by some unseen signal, they all began to laugh, obviously all coming to the same conclusion at once –that I was making a joke to entertain them.

I waited for them to compose themselves, patiently. "Might I ask, gentlemen, what it is that you find so entirely amusing?"

The governor spoke up first, still smiling broadly. "My dear doctor, you had us all quite convinced for a moment that you thought you were being serious."

I wasn't smiling. "I assure you, Governor," I replied, "I was being entirely sincere in my claim."

Gillette took on that smug manner again. "Surely, you don't truly expect us to believe that you've spoken with Captain Barbossa, Doctor Gray?"

"I do, and I have, Lieutenant Gillette," I said, meeting his gaze steadily.

"And I supposed he told you about the ship over afternoon tea?" Gillette asked, laughing again as he tried to discredit my claim.

"Of course not," I replied.

He smiled, thinking he'd gotten me to confess to an entertaining fabrication.

"Captain Barbossa doesn't drink tea," I finished. "He drinks coffee...black."

Gillette frowned and looked as if he were going to say something else, but Norrington beat him to it.

"Miss Gray," Norrington began with amused patience, "you seem fairly certain that you've spoken with someone who you thought was a pirate...but, I can assure you it has been many years since a pirate has dared set foot in Port Royal."

I took a sip of champagne before answering and then smiled at the young lieutenant. "I never said I spoke with him in Port Royal, Lieutenant Norrington."

"Oh?" Gillette interjected. "I suppose you spoke with him on the _Oxford_?"

"The _Rogue Wave_," I said sweetly to him, "and yes, I did."

"That's absurd," Gillette said, clearly tiring of my nonsense.

Groves, who had been listening intently to all sides, finally spoke back up. "Doctor Gray," he said, very pleasantly, "clearly we don't understand what has you convinced of this...might you explain it to us?"

I decided that I quite liked the young lieutenant at that point, but couldn't say the same thing for Gillette. "Two years ago I was kidnapped and held aboard the _Rogue Wave_ for over a month, Lieutenant...the same time Mr. Beckett's wife was taken hostage."

The governor frowned. "Charles never mentioned anything about pirates," he said, addressing me primarily. "He said his late wife drowned."

"After falling overboard as a hostage on the _Rogue Wave_," I said, modifying events a tad. I knew that Charles didn't like to mention the full story if he could help it, as it would require him to say that the _Essex_, a ship in the employ of the EITC at the time, had been raided and plundered, causing the company a substantial loss on the voyage.

"You were kidnapped?" Groves asked, seemingly believing my story by the look on his face.

I nodded, and took another sip of champagne. Clearly at that moment I had the undivided attention of the governor and the three officers I was standing with.

"After a raid on the _Essex_," I explained, "and I remained on board until the captain decided to let me go."

"You weren't harmed in any way, were you, my dear?" The governor asked, looking quite shocked and upset by my story.

"No," I replied quietly. "At least nothing serious...just a small laceration that healed without incident."

I could tell by the glances the men shared that they wondered about other harm that might have befallen me aboard a ship full of pirates.

"I was quite fortunate that Captain Barbossa saw to it that his crew understood that I was off limits to harassment of any sort," I quickly added, feeling the need to defend Barbossa for some reason. "He actually killed a man that...well, disobeyed him on that point."

"Despicable," Norrington snorted. "The lot of them. Completely depraved. They all deserve to be hung, and sooner rather than later. Barbossa especially."

"Evidently you have a strong opinion on that matter, Lieutenant," I said in reply.

"I should think you would as well, Doctor Gray," he said to me, "after the ordeal they put you through."

I nodded without saying anything, and took another sip of champagne.

"Well, never fear, Doctor," Norrington continued, "I intend to see the number of pirates in these waters decline steadily. Hanging, in my opinion, is too kind a fate for men like Barbossa."

The governor spoke up. "Perhaps you might tell me more about this horse that Charles tells me you have?" he said, clearly changing the subject as he sensed me growing uncomfortable with the discussion.

"I should be happy to show him to you if you like," I said. "Does Miss Swann ride?"

"Quite well, actually," the governor replied, beaming again while speaking about his daughter.

Groves, quite the horseman, I would find out, asked me to dance at that point, and I conversed with him easily for the duration of our dance about horses, riding and my Lusitano, Rogue. In fact, I spent a fair amount of time in his company that night, in part because I found him agreeable and pleasant, and in part because I was able to keep from having to endure a dance with Charles Beckett.

When the late hour finally started to catch up to me, and I'd said all my goodbyes to the officers, and the governor, and had made my way outside, I found that the night had become quite foggy during the hours I spent in the governor's mansion.

I headed for the great iron gate, intending to head for home, when I was halted in my tracks by someone calling my name.

"Doctor Gray."

I turned to see Lieutenant Groves walking hurriedly after me.

"I heard that you were going to be walking home alone, and I wondered if you might permit me to escort you?" he asked politely.

"Lieutenant, I should hate to inconvenience you," I said kindly. "I assure you that I know the way quite well."

He persisted, but with a smile. "It certainly would not be an inconvenience, Doctor. It is my duty to see to the safety of the citizens of Port Royal, and I would consider it a privilege if you might let me accompany you."

"Solely so that you might feel you are fulfilling your duty, sir?" I asked, teasing him a little.

"I confess, no," he said honestly, "but I would certainly feel more settled about your safety if you would permit me."

"Very well," I replied.

We spoke more of horses and dogs, and I told him about my uncle the veterinary surgeon. He asked a lot of thoughtful questions designed to find out more about me, but all within the bounds of propriety considering we had just met.

I confess that I found his company quite pleasant, and that he was an interesting conversationalist. He did tell me something of his naval career, but only when I pressed him on the matter. I thought it refreshing that it wasn't the first thing thrown in my face in an attempt to impress me.

When I arrived at the small gate that led to my front door, I will admit that I lingered there speaking with him for much longer than was entirely proper, but it had been two years since I cared much for what the townsfolk whispered about me concerning my dealings, or lack thereof, with men.

When we reached a natural lull in our conversation, I decided that I really needed to retire by then, and I said my goodnight.

"Lieutenant, thank you so much for taking the time to escort me home," I said, graciously.

"It was completely my pleasure, Doctor Gray," he said, " and I've thoroughly enjoyed speaking with you this evening. Perhaps I shall take you up on your offer to see your horse at some point."

"Well, I'll warn you now, he's quite the handful," I said with a laugh. "He needs work on his manners, Portuguese rogue that he is."

"I am sure you'll do a wonderful job training him," Groves replied, pleasantly. "Well, I bid you goodnight, Doctor."

"Good night, Lieutenant," I replied, "and thank you."

I know that he watched to make sure I was securely inside my little house before he left, but I didn't turn around when I reached the door.

I laid awake for a while that night, wondering whether or not I could see myself spending time with a man like Groves. Certainly he was polite, and handsome, and had distinguished himself so far in his military career. He also seemed to have no qualms about the fact that I was a woman doctor, which gave him greater standing in my book.

Possibly, I would have spent a lot more time with him, if it wasn't for what happened the next morning.

I awoke to the sound of someone knocking on my door, and I sat up blearily, trying to figure out what time it might be. The knocking repeated itself, and I climbed out of bed, enrobed myself in a dressing gown, and ran my fingers through my hair on the way to the door, already preparing to pull it into a hasty braid as I assumed I was being awoken for a medical issue, and would have to leave momentarily for the hospital up the hill.

A young boy of ten or so stood outside my door, and to my great surprise, handed me what appeared to be a wrapped bundle of yellow roses. "I'm supposed to deliver these to you," the young man said shyly.

"Thank you, Robert," I said in return, knowing who he was, and that he often made deliveries for his mistress, Mrs. Healy.

Robert, relieved of his responsibility, scurried off down the road, leaving me to take the flowers inside and ponder who could have possibly sent them. There was no note or card, and it wasn't anywhere near my birthday.

I arranged them in a vase of water, and sat down to have breakfast, shooting glances at the bouquet intermittently while I tried to figure out the mystery.

For a few minutes, I wondered whether John and Alice had sent them, as a thank you for all I had tried to do for their daughter, but although it entirely seemed like something Alice would have done, as well as I knew her, I knew they didn't have the money to spend on a bouquet like that, especially since they were already having difficulty paying my fees.

Such was often the case with many of my patients that weren't part of Port Royal's elite, and I often found myself paid in baked goods, or eggs, or home cured bacon.

Briefly I wondered if they could be from Charles Beckett. I could see him doing such a thing as a way of apology for his comment from the night before. Although the roses were elegant, I figured that Charles probably would have sent a score instead of a dozen, just as a way of showing off, so it was less likely to be him.

Then the outrageous thought that perhaps my friend the lieutenant had sent them occurred, and I wondered if it was at all possible. While a bit far-fetched to consider, we had gotten along quite nicely the night before, and we'd obviously both agreed that we were each considering spending more time in one another's company.

Of the three possibilities, he seemed the most likely, but I determined that I would go and see Mrs. Healy once I had breakfasted and dressed, to see if I could wangle out of her who had sent them.

I didn't have to wait long to speak with Mrs. Healy, as she showed up at my door about half an hour later, and I let her in after she'd knocked.

"Mornin', mornin', dearie," she said pleasantly, bustling her large frame into my kitchen. "Sorry t' bother yeh, mum," she said amiably, "but it seems as if Robert's gone an' made a mistake."

"Mistake?" I asked.

"Yes, silly child tha' 'e is," she continued, "'e brought yeh flowers wot was meant for t' guv'nor's 'ouse."

"Oh," I replied, hoping the disappointment didn't come through in my voice. "I'll just get them, shall I?"

"Ah, thanks, luv," she said, taking the vase I handed her. "I'll jus' tell Estrella up at t' mansion this 'ere's your vase, and she'll see to it yeh get it back."

"That's fine," I said. Apparently I didn't need it at the moment anyway.

Mrs. Healy bustled back toward the door. "Be back in a jif, luv," she said cheerfully.

"Back?" I asked.

"'Course," she said, giving me a queer look, "wiv yer flowers. Robert sent 'em to the wrong place as well. Mixed 'em up good, 'e did."

"Oh," I said, brightening again, as she left to retrieve the correct order. By then I was terribly curious to see what she would return with, and I couldn't wait to ask her if she knew who sent them.

I spotted Mrs. Healy coming back up my walkway half an hour later, and I tried my best not to look anxious for her return. I knew before she'd gotten all the way in the door that there was lavender in the bundle she carried, and she stood next to me while I opened it.

"This 'ere's an interesin' bunch," Mrs. Healy said pleasantly, as I unwrapped the paper the flowers were in. "Gentleman as ordered 'em were right specific in wot 'e wanted."

"Who was it?" I asked, dying for an explanation.

"Well, I don' rightly know," she said. "I was 'opin' you'd tell me 'oo yeh thought sent 'em."

The bouquet was a large bundle of fragrant lavender, mixed with roses of a vibrant coral pink, and sprigs of rose leaves. The color combination was stunning, and the fragrance heavenly.

"I have no idea," I said at last, after we'd both admired the flowers. "Tell me what the gentleman looked like. Perhaps I'll know him from his description."

"Well, it were a right strange thing...jus' b'fore we was getting' ready t' close, these 'ere two strange fellas come in an' want to order a delivery. Fer you."

I indicated to Mrs. Healy that she should sit at the kitchen table, and poured us both a cup of tea and put the flowers in a pot of water while she spoke.

"Odd lookin' chaps, they was. Somethin' sneaky about 'em. Unsavory yeh might say," Mrs. Healy said, and I laughed.

"I have unsavory chaps sending me flowers, now?" I asked her.

"It weren't the two gents that the flower's are from, dearie. The tall one, why 'e says they're from a secret admirer of yours, and 'e wouldn't say more'n that."

My mind raced, trying to think who could have possibly done this. Certainly not Groves, and I was starting to become more concerned that this would be something that Charles would come up with.

"I thought you said they were very specific about what they wanted?" I asked, taking a sip of my tea.

"Wiv t' flowers, luv. Had ta be lavender per 'oo sent 'em, an' the tall one, 'e adds a few things 'e thinks ought go in the mix. 'E tells me wot 'e wants to say, and I tells 'im wot flower 'e needs." She frowned, looking puzzled herself for a moment.

"What did he specify in addition to the lavender?" I asked her.

"Somethin' fer 'ope," Mrs. Healy replied, recalling her conversation, "an' somethin' fer passion. Rose leaves, an' roses o' coral pink."

My eyebrows shot up at her words, and I felt a bit embarrassed as well as completely confused. I was beginning to pray fervently that they weren't from Charles Beckett.

"Strange though," Mrs. Healy added, "lavender's not somethin' yeh'd think 'e'd send wiv that bunch."

"Why?" I asked, knowing Mrs. Healy knew her business well.

"'Cause it means 'e don't trust you," she replied, the tiniest smile on her lips. She laughed at my reddened cheeks, and spoke again. "Quite t' message 'e sent yeh, luv."

Passion, hope and mistrust. I was at a complete loss.

--

Ch.3 up soon!

Have a Happy Halloween, maties!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **As best I could tell, Groves has no first name given anywhere in canon, so I provide him with one.

--

_"Strange though," Mrs. Healy added, "lavender's not somethin' yeh'd think 'e'd send wiv that bunch."_

_"Why?" I asked, knowing Mrs. Healy knew her business well._

_"'Cause it means 'e don't trust you," she replied, the tiniest smile on her lips. She laughed at my reddened cheeks, and spoke again. "Quite t' message 'e sent yeh, luv."_

_Passion, hope and mistrust. I was at a complete loss._

_--_

**~Chapter Three~**

**--**

Mrs. Healy and I sat together with tea at my kitchen table, trying to puzzle out where the flowers had come from.

"What did the two gentlemen look like who ordered the flowers?" I asked, hoping that there might be some clue as to the admirer to be found.

"As I said," Mrs. Healy went on, " them was unsavory fellas...at firs' I thought they was robbin' us at t' end of the day. Busy one it were too, wot wiv gettin' all the flowers sent up to the guv'nor's place fer the ball."

"Short one an' a tall one...the short one, 'e's a bit grumpy if yeh ask me...lot's of eye rollin'...keeps tellin' t' other to hurry it up. Acts all suspicious-like."

"The tall one as done the orderin', well now, 'e's a dif'ren' story. Keeps shushin' the short one and tellin' im they has ta have it right. 'E wants lavender and plenty of it, but then 'e comes back before they was to leave, an' says 'e wants somethin' else added."

I poured more tea for each of us and waited expectantly for Mrs. Healy to finish the recounting of the flower order.

"So, any'ow, the tall one, 'e says he wants flowers added as tell of 'ope, and the short one, 'e gets all outta sorts again and starts scoldin' t' tall one, sayin' that weren't specified by yer admirer."

"They weren't?" I asked, mind racing as to what the whole thing was about.

"Guess not," Mrs. Healy replied. "The tall one, t' younger o' the two, 'e shushes the short one, an' tells 'im 'e knows wot 'e's about...that 'e wants somthin' as means 'ope, and somethin' as means passion put in t' lavender. Said yer admirer would 'ave agreed 'ad 'e been there."

"Wasn't 'til 'e saw wot I put together, that 'e was satisfied it were romantic enough, an' then they finally left."

I shook my head. "I'm at a complete loss, Mrs. Healy," I said in earnest. "I haven't the vaguest notion."

"Well, it's a righ' mystery, then," Mrs. Healy said cheerfully, and then she frowned slightly. "Another odd thing it were, dearie..."

"What's that?" I asked.

"They overpaid me fer them flowers," she answered. "Gave me this an' said keep it." She pulled a coin out of her apron and showed it to me. I didn't recognize what sort of coin it was...maybe Spanish, but it was clearly made of gold and worth a lot more than a bouquet of flowers.

"So they leaves, and the tall one, 'e thanks me and 'e insists one more time that these be sent to yeh today. Very specific 'e was it had ta be today."

"It couldn't possibly be anyone that might work for Charles Beckett at the East India Trading Company?" I asked, being a little daring in speculating such a thing in front of Mrs. Healy.

She frowned. "It weren't...them two fellas was downright scruffy looking, wot wiv ragged clothes, an' swords, an' the wooden eye an' such."

"Wooden eye?" I asked, wondering if Mrs. Healy was pulling my leg.

She nodded. "The tall one 'as done the orderin'...'e 'ad a wooden eye. Dropped it once an' 'ad to climb under 't counter ta get it."

I laughed, completely mystified and amused by the whole story.

"Well," Mrs. Healy said, heaving herself back to her feet heavily, "if'n you find out 'oo they're from, you let me know. Can't say as I've 'ad a more intriguin' order b'fore."

"I certainly will," I said, seeing her to the door. "Thank you, Mrs. Healy."

"Thanks fer the tea, luv," she said with a wave. "Ta."

I must have sat staring at the flowers for another half hour before I managed to drag myself away to head to the stable to see about working with the new horse I had purchased.

I greeted the young lad who helped oversee the care of the horses. Will Turner was his name, and he'd been taken in by John Brown, the blacksmith that owned the stable and the smithy next to it. He'd been found at sea, adrift as the only survivor of a ship bound for Jamaica from England that sank two weeks before.

"How's my Rogue, this morning, Mr. Turner?" I asked him, where he was hauling a large bucket of water into the small stable.

Will looked up. "Good morning, Doctor Gray. He's fine. A bit ornery, I suppose."

I smiled and knew it was true. The young stallion, while having an overall pleasant disposition, was full of vim and vigor, and needed a patient, firm hand to keep his attention focused.

I was just leading Rogue back to the stable after working with him for a couple of hours, and riding him to a small cove west of town and back, when someone spoke to me.

"So, this is the horse you told me of, is it?" Lieutenant Groves was standing there, looking over the animal.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," I said, and then I dismounted and led Rogue over to where he was standing.

"I happened to stop by your house this morning, and figured I might find you here when you weren't at home," he explained. "To inquire as to your health, of course," he added quickly, trying not to smile.

"My health, Lieutenant Groves," I said, smiling myself, " is quite fine. Not much different than it was last night, in fact."

He knew I was teasing him, but it was apparent that I was glad that he'd come to find me.

"He's a fine looking horse, Doctor Gray," he began.

"Thank you, and _Madeline_ would be fine, Lieutenant," I said warmly, "if you don't find it an impropriety to address me as such."

"Certainly not, Madeline," he said with a smile, "and in that case, it's _Jonathan_."

I saw to Rogue as we spoke some more.

"Madeline, I hope you didn't find the conversation too upsetting last night," he said, as I hung up the bridle in my hand.

"Why should I have?" I asked.

"Well, it must have been uncomfortable for you to have to speak of the kidnapping," he said kindly.

I joined him and walked outside, wandering toward the docks as we continued talking. "That was two years ago, Jonathan. I'm quite well recovered by now." I knew it wasn't completely the truth, but that didn't mean he had to know.

"Yes, well I'm certain you can understand Norrington's position on pirates...all of our's really. They need to be stopped."

I nodded and said nothing.

"Lieutenant Norrington would love nothing better than to be able to bring the _Black Pearl _and her captain to justice," he went on. "She's caused enough trouble preying on ships and settlements...Barbossa and his motley crew."

"Motley?" I asked, amused at his choice of words.

He laughed a little. "Yes. Worst bunch of cutthroat buccaneers the Caribbean's seen in a long time. Savage fighters...ruthless killers. Supposed to be a Dutchman and a Jamaican who love nothing better than to cut a man's throat just enough to watch him bleed to death slowly."

"That's terrible," I answered, knowing it was none of the pirates that I had ever met, although I knew of a few on the _Rogue_ that might have done the same thing. I found my fingers had gone to the tiny scar I carried under my chin without realizing it at first.

"The bo'sun is supposed to be a giant of an African who can crush a man's neck with his bare hands," Groves went on, "and the _Pearl_ has some of the best gunners in the Caribbean, despite the fact that one of them is supposed to have a wooden eye."

"A what?" I stopped dead in my tracks.

Jonathan laughed a little. "A wooden eye," he repeated, and then his brow furrowed when he saw that I was becoming visibly upset.

"Are you all right, Madeline?" he asked, quite concerned.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan," I said, turning away already, " I have to go."

"Madeline..."

"All this talk of pirates has dredged up some unpleasant memories. I...I need to..."

I fled at that point, leaving poor Groves thinking he'd been the cause of my distress.

I flung open the door to the kitchen and hurried inside. There on the table sat the flowers. Rose leaves for hope, coral pink roses for passion, and lavender...I knew what the lavender was for, and it wasn't mistrust of me. I knew why they'd had to be delivered that day, for that very day was May first, the anniversary of the day we'd met.

He'd sent them, somehow, knowing that after two years, I probably had good reason to mistrust his intentions, and he'd wanted to dispel the doubt I probably had by that time by getting a message of sorts to me. The lavender was for more than was apparent on the surface.

I thought back to the night I'd worn the perfume I hoped he hadn't noticed, and the night he'd teased me about it mercilessly. A flood of memories came back then, and I had to sit down at the table.

Whoever he'd sent, apparently knew him well and knew something of his history with me, and it amused me to think that the man with the wooden eye had taken the time to add some additionally romantic touches on his captain's behalf.

I had solved the mystery of the flowers. It was the most surprising answer I could have come up with, and I had to admit, the most pleasing. I still had so many questions that were unanswered, after waiting for nearly two years.

Perhaps this was a message letting me know that he still planned on returning, and I resolved that I could wait a little longer.

Mrs. Healy commented one morning, some months later, when I'd encountered her while riding my horse, that Jonathan Groves had been spending a lot of time in the company of one of the local magistrate's daughters, and I knew it was because he'd gotten to know her after I'd declined his requests to spend more time together.

It didn't matter to me at that point. If the flowers had never arrived, I might have gotten in over my head with him, and what would have happened when Barbossa actually returned for me?

What I had no idea at that point was how many years it would be before I would actually hear from Barbossa again.

"Did yeh ever find out who it was wot sent yeh the flowers?" Mrs. Healy asked up at me where I sat on Rogue's back. "Yer secret admirer?"

I nodded. "Yes, I eventually did."

"Well, than 'oo was it, dearie?" she asked, being pleasantly nosy.

"I can't tell you that, Mrs. Healy," I said with a smile.

"A secret, it's to be still, then?" she asked, returning the smile.

I nodded at her with another smile, and I rode away with my Rogue, to wait for another that had sent me flowers in May.

--

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed this little side trip from the main saga. Next up is a short story about getting a second chance, and this time it's primarily about Barbossa –after he's been shot at Isla de Muerta eight years after this.

Can visitation by four helpful spirits scare the Dickens out of the Pirate Lord in order to help redeem him on his path back from the afterlife? Watch for _A Caribbean Carol_ soon –third installment of the _Pirates of May_ series.

And don't forget to let me know if you're enjoying the ongoing tale! :)


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